


Another Story Must Begin

by Petrochoria



Series: The Path to Paradise [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Music, My OCs, Not Canon Compliant, Not a SongFic though, The Author Regrets Nothing, first fic of a new series, slight angst, warning for slight mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrochoria/pseuds/Petrochoria
Summary: Our heroine reflects on her former life, and considers a second chance.(inspired by "Valjean's Soliloquy," I don't own Hazbin Hotel, et cetera)





	Another Story Must Begin

She’d seen the princess’ announcement that morning.

She normally wasn’t a fan of the television-that stupid little box gave her a headache, what with the flashing lights- but it sure beat the radio.

Old Nick’s little girl seemed so adamant that this would be the trick. 

She had had her doubts. Sure, a little less blood around here would be nice...but how many would go to that place willingly? Not many had a reason to leave this place. They were free to enjoy whatever the...well, the here their vice was in life. The pyros had their gasoline, the socios had their cons and blackmails, the deviants had their hookers...

And, she mused, as she eyed the used syringe on the butcher-block counter stained with God-knew-what, the addicts had their fix.

Not that it was necessarily nice. The smack here was below par. But… at least she wouldn’t be conked out somewhere with no way home, or worse, in full view of her sister.

Her sister…

“Well, Millie… this ain’t exactly heaven material, eh?” she whispered to herself. “Lived half my life coked out, died coked out… not much you can brag about to all the other kid angels up there, I’m certain.”

She breathed in, wrinkling what little of a nose she had at the too-familiar stench of garbage and cigarette smoke. Somewhere in the distance, there was a turf war making the shabby bungalow’s foundations shake.

“But...y’know what?” she said, voice slightly stronger. “I’ll be damned again if I don’t try.”  
She tossed the syringe aside. It shattered on the linoleum.

But she didn’t care as she lifted her bag from its hook. In it were a couple of spare syringes, an old burlesque advertisement for ‘The Divine Miss Angelica,’ a pair of gloves and a few old fountain pens.

She tossed out one of the syringes (as for the other...well, that could be her little secret, eh?). She replaced it with a gently-folded dress and what was left of the paycheck from three months ago...the last gig she worked. 

Lord’s throne, had that film flopped. And then, of course, Dupre decided it was all the editing team’s fault. She wished she’d snapped his flappy neck right then and-

Right, she thought, not the time for vengeance… time to make your entrance, lil’ miss. Your latest audition. Let’s just hope this one doesn’t go down the drain.  


It had been a long day to be Vaggie Reyes, to put it mildly.

First Charlie’s announcement--which had brought in its share of unpleasant phone calls. Then there were the plumbing issues, the heating issues, the issue of hiring a staff, and the living innuendo of an issue that was Angel Dust.

And now someone was knocking on the door. Perfect.

She opened the door, ready to fire either a ‘no salesmen’ warning, or a string of curses. She wasn’t sure.

What she instead found was a petite demon in a white blouse and polka-dotted skirt clutching a worn duffel bag.

“Okay, if you’re here to complain, take a number. Because this-”

The small demon held up a webbed finger. She didn’t have proper hair, just a sort of muscular fin, and Vaggie swore she could see the edge of a long, spine-like tail twitching. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce m’self,” the smaller demon said, her voice edged with a southern twang. 

She looked up. Vaggie saw her eyes had no pupils, just curved lines. 

“I’m...my name is Jetty. And...d’ya have a room available?”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, welcome to my first series! This one's going to be heavily reliant on OCs, and may morph into an AU. Be nice to each other in the comments, and constructive criticism is allowed. Have a great day!


End file.
